Four Weddings and an Apocalypse
by Elektra3
Summary: In which Lilie gets married, and causes World War III. More or less in that order.


So I was thinking about Lilie's post-Kinkan career, and somehow the image of her with a pink, rhinestone-studded AK-47 popped into my head.

It, uh. Kinda went downhill from there.

Disclaimer: Ikuko Itoh would, no doubt, be thoroughly ashamed of what I've done to her characters.

- - -

Lilie's first wedding was a lavish affair, complete with wealthy guests, elaborate decorations, and terrifying hors d'oeuvres. Pique spent most of it nibbling at the more recognizable refreshments and marveling that some of the guests' necks hadn't yet collapsed under the weight of their jewelry.

The happy couple left not long afterward for a month-long trip around the world – a trip that was cut short due to an untimely revolution and the even more untimely murder of Lilie's husband. Pique didn't get many details about the political situation, but she _did_ get a cheerful postcard from the new widow which bewailed the lack of running water in the rebel camp but also enthused that "the view from the mountaintop is simply _grand,_ Pique darling!"

- - -

Lilie's second wedding took place – so Pique heard – at gunpoint, with five hundred armed guerrillas and a mountain goat in attendance. "Of course, the guns weren't actually _loaded_," Lilie confided later during a whirlwind sightseeing-and-destruction-of-government-property tour of Europe. "They were just decorations, really. And we had the most _darling_ shrapnel garlands, and for my wedding present" (here, she actually seemed to sparkle) "I got to blow up a weapons transport!"

Pique considered this, as well as the glow on Lilie's face as she spoke of explosions and destruction and debris flying through the air ("Like _birds_, Pique! Little exploding birds!"), and the AK-47 (painted bright pink, and studded with rhinestones) that had been flung ever-so-carelessly on the table. And said, "How do you make garlands out of shrapnel, anyway?"

- - -

Lilie's third wedding occurred shortly after she was released from prison. Her new husband, in deference to his bride's tender feelings, waited for a week after the wedding before ordering the execution of her former comrades.

"He was so _discreet_ about it, too!" the tender-hearted bride squealed, clasping her hands in fond remembrance. "He didn't want me to feel bad about what happened after I just happened to let slip a teensy-weensy bit of information about the locations of our primary bases of operation to the head of his secret police, so he made it look like they'd all disappeared. Isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever _heard_, Pique darling?"

Pique, who had several adjectives other than "sweet" in mind, nodded and tried very hard not to think about the heads on spikes in the sunny courtyard down below.

- - -

Lilie's fourth wedding, much to her disappointment, did not happen until a year after she testified in the war crimes tribunal. "It's all so _unfair,_ Pique darling," she wailed, lip quivering tragically. "There's no need to call off the wedding just because it might cause an itty bitty international incident!"

"Sure there isn't," Pique said, absently. "Do you want lemon or chamomile tea?"

"'But darling,' I said, 'why _not_ have the wedding now?' And he said – "

"Wait, sorry, I'm out of chamomile. Is lemon all right?"

" – Actually, I don't entirely remember what he said. But it had something to do with making sure I didn't sort of accidentally violate the Geneva conventions when I was using all those political prisoners as clothing racks – "

"Right, so for sandwiches I have ham and… er, ham."

" – And it would be so _dreadfully_ inconvenient if the new president turned out to have married a war criminal – "

"No, wait, here's a tomato. I still need to go grocery shopping, though."

"– Particularly after that _ugly_ incident with the genetically engineered mastiffs and the – Ooh, is there mustard?"

"Help yourself," Pique said, and passed the jar.

- - -

"Really," Lilie huffed indignantly – or something that sounded like it, anyway; it was difficult to hear over the sound of exploding shrapnel – a few years later, "I don't know why they're all acting like this is my fault."

"It _is_ your fault," Pique felt obliged to point out.

"Yes, but they don't have to _say_ it."

"Look, you were the one who – " she started to say, but then the house exploded and she never got to say anything ever again.


End file.
